Beware the Weeping Angel
by forestwife
Summary: Follows events of ‘Blink’. The Doctor and Martha are sent back to 1969. What do they do while waiting for Sally Sparrow to follow the Doctor’s clues and send the TARDIS back to them? Get a job? Yes. Go domestic? Maybe. Fit in?... Nah!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, it's characters or storylines.

Beware the Weeping Angel

Chapter 1

"Ah, here we are then!" the Doctor announced, looking at the old house he and Martha were stood in front of.

"We're going in _there_?" Martha asked sceptically, also looking at the creepy rundown house that looked like the sort used in horror films about hauntings. But she had nowhere near the same amount of enthusiasm that the Doctor seemed to have a never ending supply of.

"Yup," the Doctor replied cheerfully, "That's where all those people keep going missing from. They drive up in their cars, go inside, and are never heard from again. I thought we'd check it out."

"So, why are _we_ going in there?" Martha asked again, "That's a job for the police isn't it?"

"Could be," the Doctor said vaguely, "But it's been going on for years, and the police have no idea. No leads, no suspects, nothing. It's like people are just disappearing in a puff of smoke or in the blink of… an eye."

Even as he spoke, something occurred to the Doctor. The word 'blink' jogged his memory back to a certain folder he got from a certain young woman called Sally Sparrow, along with the information that he would get stuck in 1969 at some point.

He looked back at the house, which he had to admit was giving him the heebie-jeebies as much as it was Martha. Could this be where it would happen? He had to admit, it fit the profile… people disappearing without a trace, no suspects, old abandoned house away from the prying eyes of the masses…

Ah well, no use delaying the inevitable he supposed. "Come on," he said cheerfully to Martha, approaching the gates.

Martha followed, grumbling slightly under her breath about this sounding more like a job for Scooby doo and their gang.

Unlocking and then relocking the rusty gates after them with the sonic screwdriver, the Doctor and Martha walked up to the ominously looming house. Then, unlocking the front door, the Doctor cautiously gave it a push, it opening with an audible creak.

"What a dump," Martha commented with distaste, looking at the state of the house. It was old, dusty and falling apart. Bits of broken furniture lay around, and there were even plants beginning to grow through some of the cracks in the walls and through the windows.

"Yeah, it is a bit of a mess, isn't it," the Doctor agreed, stepping over the threshold.

Martha raised an eyebrow at the sheer understatement of his words, but didn't say anything. And when the Doctor went to move further into the house, she stopped him with the suggestion, "Look, I'll go and check upstairs while you do down here, alright?"

The Doctor looked apprehensive, and glanced up the dingy stairs, "I don't know…" he began.

"Come on," Martha protested, "There's nothing here! So the sooner we search this place, the sooner we can leave and go somewhere else, right?"

The Doctor hesitated for a second, so Martha just fixed him a look that said, _"Well?"_

"Oh, alright then," the Doctor agreed reluctantly, "But there's something I have to tell you first, and listen this is very important. If you see any statues of weeping angels, I want you to back away slowly, and keep your eyes on them. Then go back to the TARDIS as quickly as you can, got it?"

"Statues of angels?" Martha asked, confused.

"It's a long story," the Doctor said, "They might not even be here. But if they are, you go back to the TARDIS, ok? And remember, don't look away from them."

"Ok," Martha said, knowing that when the Doctor gave you strange instructions, it was usually in your best interests to follow them, "But I don't have my key!" she suddenly realised, finding her pocket empty.

"Humans!" the Doctor exclaimed, "You'd forget your head if it wasn't screwed on!" Then he dug around in his pocket and pulled out a key on the end of a long piece of threadbare string, "Here."

"Thanks," Martha said, and started up the stairs.

"And Martha?" the Doctor called after her, "Be careful."

"You too," Martha replied, a little unnerved by his warning, and carried on to the next floor of the house.

At the top, Martha glanced back down the stairs. She couldn't see the Doctor, courtesy of the curve of the stairs, but she could hear his footsteps moving off into the house. Turning back round, she surveyed the room in front of her… and got the shock of her life.

She yelped in shock and horror, and took several hurried steps backwards, dropping the key in her hand in her surprise.

Standing _right_ in front of her, was a statue of what she supposed could've been an angel, were it not for the grotesque look on it's face, or the fangs. And she didn't know about weeping either, this _angel_ looked more like it was about to try and eat her, not cry. It even had a hand—or was it a claw?—stretched out toward her.

Martha tried to stay calm and remember what the Doctor had told her to do if she saw a statue.

"_Back away slowly, and keep your eyes on them. Then go back to the TARDIS as quickly as you can… remember, don't look away from them."_

Ok, she could do this. All she had to do was get the key from the floor and back to the TARDIS, hopefully grabbing the Doctor on the way, without taking her eyes off them… Wait, _them_?! There was more than one of these things? Martha didn't like the sound of that.

Not taking her eyes off the statue, Martha managed to check out the rest of the room behind the angel. Sure enough, right at the back of the room was another angel, only this one did look like it was weeping.

_Gotcha_, she thought. She only hoped that these two were the only ones…

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, the Doctor had been looking around downstairs. He walked into a room that was just as rundown as the rest of the house, with peeling wallpaper and broken windows, there was even ivy growing out of the chimney.

By now, the Doctor _knew _that this house was where the angels were hiding. He recognised parts of it from the photo's he'd been given, including the very outdated wallpaper, underneath which, he knew that a message from his future self in the past was waiting.

Then, as he glanced out the window, the Doctor saw one of them, standing in the garden, innocent as you like, hands covering it's eyes.

"Hello," he murmured under his breath on seeing it, "I spy with my little eye… one quantum-locked angel… which means, there are another three around here somewhere…"

Backing toward the door, his eyes firmly fixed on the angel outside, he called, "Martha!"

On hearing her replying call, the Doctor let out a sigh of relief before focussing completely on the matter at hand, "Seen any angels up there?"

"Yeah," he heard her yell, "There're two up here, and I can see them both. They're the only ones, right?"

For a second the Doctor couldn't bring himself to answer her. There was still one of these creatures loose in the house somewhere, and it could sneak up behind either of them at any second. He gave an involuntary shudder at the thought. He'd done the stranded without his TARDIS thing before, and it most certainly didn't agree with him. And as for Martha… he knew that he couldn't get her stuck in the past with no way home… it'd destroy her life. Oh she'd be strong about it, he was sure, but she was an intelligent young woman who's ambition was to be a doctor, and if they were sent back in time, then she could kiss that future goodbye.

"Now Martha, listen to me, this is very important," he yelled to her, "Whatever you do, keep your eyes on those angels. I've got one more down here, but there are four in total, so I'm going to back my way to you so we can watch each other's backs before the other one shows up. But you just stay there and don't look away, and don't blink!"

Martha heard the Doctor's words with growing dread inside her… there were _four_ of these things? How did _he_ know?_ Because he's the Doctor and he knows __**everything**_, she thought to herself sarcastically.

But the worst part about the whole situation was that they didn't know where the last one was. Martha was very aware of the dropped TARDIS key on the floor beside her, and even more aware of the ferocious but frozen creature only feet in front of her.

"Ok, but whatever you're going to do, do it fast!" she yelled back.

By now the Doctor had already reached the door that led back to the hall, which in turn led to the stairs, and Martha, "Oh and Martha?" he called to her.

No answer. The house was completely silent save for the wind rattling the window panes in their decrepit frames.

"Martha?!" the Doctor yelled again, "Martha Jones! Answer me!"

But there was no reply, and with a sickening drop of his stomach, the Doctor knew what'd happened. Either Martha had looked away, or she'd blinked, or in a more likely scenario, the fourth angel had snuck up behind her.

There was now no doubt in the Doctor's mind that this was the time when he and Martha were to get stuck in 1969, and become reliant on a young human woman called Sally Sparrow to save them.

At that moment, standing in the doorway of the room, the Doctor knew that his time in this time was up as he became aware of a presence behind him. But before he could turn around or even move, he felt a cold solid touch on the back of his neck and everything went dark…

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Right so what did you think? Please tell me if you like the idea of this story and want me to continue. I have already written chapter 2 and am now on chapter 3, so I hope you do!

I know I still need to update my other ongoing stories, but I absolutely loved the episode 'blink' (I reckon it's my favourite of this season so far) and I just kept having all these thoughts rushing round my head of what the Doctor and Martha must've got up to in 1969!

Questions? Comments? Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who

Chapter 2

The moment of unawareness didn't last long. Suddenly, there was a rushing sensation all around him, the feeling of pinpricks all over every inch of his cold skin and a thundering roar his ears almost deafening him. The feeling that he was hurtling downwards at tremendous velocity almost overwhelmed him, but the Doctor knew what this was. He was having a little trip through the time vortex, and one where he wasn't protected by the walls of the TARDIS. He was falling through time, on his way to 1969.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was all over. The Doctor slammed into a hard surface with a lot more force than he'd have liked, involuntarily crying out as he painfully reached his destination.

For a second he just lay there on the _very_ cold concrete, getting his breath back, and biting back the oncoming nausea. He felt terrible, but he wasn't one for wallowing in how bad he felt. After all, if it was this bad for him as a Time Lord, then it must've been even worse for Martha, who not only was a fragile little human, but who would've had no clue what was happening.

And thinking of… where _was_ Martha? Realising he didn't know the answer to that question, the Doctor sat up from where he lay, wincing slightly as his body protested against the movement. He rubbed a hand down his arm and then down his aching side, knowing he was going to have some pretty spectacular bruises there later.

Disorientated, he looked around. He was sitting in a dark, non-descript and dingily lit alley, the sky was dark and full of stars, and there was no sign of his companion.

Had she been sent to a different time? This horrible thought occurred to the Doctor, and he sat and pondered it with a considerable amount of fear for the young woman's well-fair.

But as it turned out, he needn't have worried, because only moments later a dark shadow fell over him, and he looked up to see—

"Martha!" he cried delightedly, a grin breaking out on his face as he saw his companion.

"Don't you 'Martha' me!" Martha fumed, "It's about time you turned up and told me what was going on!"

"Oh, well you see—" the Doctor began, really hoping he wasn't going to get slapped.

"And where the bloody hell _are_ we?!" Martha continued, "Was this something to do with those angels?"

"Yeah, you see—" the Doctor began.

"Wait!" Martha said, shivering from the cold of the night air, "Did you _know_ they were in the house?" She narrowed her eyes and glared at him, daggers in her eyes, and the Doctor knew that the Time Lords would shortly be extinct if he got the answer to this wrong.

"I had—an inkling," he admitted sheepishly, bracing himself for Martha's wrath. And she didn't disappoint.

"What?!" she shrieked, furious, "How could you—? Why didn't you—? You should've—Ooh I can't even _look_ at you!" And she promptly turned her back on him and stalked away a few steps, breathing heavily.

"Martha," the Doctor called plaintively, struggling to his feet, "I didn't _know _know know, I just knew that this was going to happen at some point in the future. It was only after you'd already gone upstairs and I saw the angel that I _knew_ knew knew!"

Martha turned back to face him, "Ok," she said, "I'm choosing to forgive you this time, as long as you promise never to lie to me about something like this again."

"I promise never to lie to you about something like this ever again, unless it would save your life or otherwise keep you safe by doing so," the Doctor said seriously, "Good enough?"

"Yes, I s'pose," Martha answered, the beginnings of a smile forming on her face as she reached out to hug him, "I glad you're ok."

"Me too," the Doctor replied, returning the hug, "Glad that you're ok, that is. I hit the ground hard enough that I'm going to be sore for a week. I was worried I was going to be treating you for broken bones or something, but it seems that you fared better than I did!"

"Yeah, I think I'm going to have bruises tomorrow though," Martha replied, rubbing her hip. "So, where are we?" she asked, "Or should I say when?"

Scanning the air where he'd appeared with the sonic screwdriver, then scanning Martha and finally himself, the Doctor muttered something about there definitely being recent 'temporal activity' where they'd landed, before putting the sonic screwdriver back in his pocket and answering her question. "1969," he said, "We were sent here by those angels, or one of those angels I should say. We were obviously each touched by the same one, or we'd have been sent to different times."

"What _are_ they?" Martha asked with a shiver that wasn't just because of the cold. The thought of being sent to a different time _alone_, without the Doctor was distinctly unnerving. She knew that if she'd been here alone, she would probably have freaked out. But somehow, having the Doctor here made the whole situation feel a little less a hopeless, a little safer.

It was funny really, but even though danger seemed to follow the Doctor wherever he went, he was still the person who made her feel the safest.

"Creatures from another world," the Doctor replied mysteriously, not looking at her.

Martha decided not to press that question and instead said, "But I don't get it. They were just statues. I never even saw one of them move, how can they have done this?"

"No, see that's what makes them so brilliant!" the Doctor explained enthusiastically, waving his hands around, "They're quantum-locked. Whenever they're seen by any living thing, they automatically turn to stone. It's a defence mechanism, and a brilliant one at that! It's why they've survived so long. That's why I told you not to take your eyes off them."

"But I didn't!" Martha protested, rubbing her hands together in an effort to keep them warm.

"Oh I know," the Doctor said, "But there was a fourth one that neither of us was looking at, and it snuck up behind us."

"What, it even got the better of you, the all-knowing Time Lord?!" Martha asked, with more than a trace of humour and sarcasm in her voice.

"Hey!" the Doctor complained, "I may be brilliant, a genius even. But I don't have eyes in the back of my head! Now the Felothians, they'd be good at dealing with those angels, they've got three sets of eyes! They've got them in the backs of their heads as well as the front, so never try to sneak up on one."

"I'll… bear that in mind," Martha said, "Wait a minute, you said they had three sets, where's the other one?"

The Doctor looked at Martha and opened his mouth as if to answer, but apparently thought better of it, and said, "Umm, never mind that now. Come on, let's see where exactly we are. Can't stand around in this alley chin-wagging all night now can we?" And without further ado, he sauntered off down the alley.

Martha rolled her eyes, pulled her jacket tighter around her, and followed him.

When they were both out of the alley, and into the slightly better lit street, the Doctor and Martha had a look around. There were no clues in any of the closed shop's windows that gave them any idea of when exactly where they were.

"Well, it seems to be winter," the Doctor said.

"Your deductive skills astound me," Martha said, her sarcasm ruined by her chattering teeth, "I'm freezing."

A second later, there was a warm weight on her shoulders, and Martha looked to see that the Doctor had just put his large, brown trench coat around her.

Martha, who hadn't been expecting the kind gesture, hugged it round her and said, "Thanks. But won't _you_ be cold now?"

"Nah," was the Doctor's response, "Time Lord here, remember? The cold doesn't really bother me, and my body temperature is lower than a humans anyway. Besides, I can't have you catching a cold now, can I?"

"Ok, well could we find somewhere warm to go?" Martha asked, still more than a little cold, despite the extra layer.

Half an hour later, and they were still looking, but they couldn't seem to find any hotels or B&B's _anywhere_ that were still open and didn't want cash up front.

"Well we've got to find _somewhere_! Because I am _not_ sleeping on a park bench!" Martha said adamantly.

She missed the thoughtful look on the Doctor's face at her words.

Ten minutes later, she and the Doctor were in one of the parks of London. He was sat on a bench, and she was lying next to him, her head resting on his legs. It should've been really awkward, and she would've refused, but he'd insisted that 'silly little humans needed their sleep, especially after an unprotected trip through the time vortex' and she was exhausted. Though she'd never admit it, the Doctor was right, their trip had taken a lot out of her. But she was still kicking herself for giving him the idea about the park bench.

"I'm still going to kill you for this tomorrow," she murmured, trying to sound angry, but failing.

But the only response she got was an amused, "I'm sure you will. Now go to sleep."

So, Martha pulled the Doctor's trench coat tighter around her and closed her eyes. Only minutes later, she drifted off, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: So now the Doctor and Martha are in 1969. Now I just have to figure out what they're going to do next…

Questions? Comments? Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who

Chapter 3

As she'd expected she might after spending the night on a park bench, Martha woke with an almighty crick in her neck. She sat up slowly, stretching, and looked up at the Doctor, who she had still been partly lying on. He was leant back on the bench, eyes closed, and apparently asleep. But Martha knew better. She knew that the Doctor slept very little, him being a Time Lord and all that. She also knew that there was no way that the Doctor would go to sleep while they were stranded without the TARDIS in another time. Despite his outward display of almost reckless energy, he wouldn't put them in a situation where they were that vulnerable.

"What time is it?" Martha groaned, squinting in the early morning light.

"7.43am," the Doctor replied without opening his eyes, and not for the first time Martha was amazed by his scarily accurate, and apparently innate, sense of time. Then he cracked open an eye, followed by the other, and grinned at her, "I was wondering when you'd wake up. I was really starting to get fed up of your snoring."

"I do _not_ snore!" Martha protested, really hoping that he was just pulling her leg and wasn't really serious about her snoring.

"It's ok, Martha," the Doctor said offhandedly, "It's a common problem amongst humans, you know." Then he bounded to his feet and said, "So, what d'you say we go and find some breakfast?"

"Sounds good," Martha agreed, sitting up. "As long as it's someplace warm," she added, her breath visible in the air. She pulled the Doctor's trench coat around her and looked at the frost that had appeared during the night.

"Agreed," the Doctor said, with a little shiver of his own. Evidently it was cold enough to be starting to get to him too.

Half an hour later, both the time travellers were sat in the local 'caff', each with a full English breakfast, and both on the house.

"How'd you manage this?" Martha asked, digging in.

The Doctor held up the wallet containing his psychic paper. At the moment it had the appearance of an I.D. card proclaiming him as 'Mr John Tyler', an investor scouring London for the city's top cafés.

Martha snorted, "And they actually bought that?!"

The Doctor scratched his head absentmindedly, "Well, you know humans. You lot believe whatever you want to believe, whether it makes sense or not."

"Hang on a minute," Martha broke in, "Why didn't you just use that last night to get us a place to stay? _Anything_ would have been preferable to the park bench!"

"Oh come on, it wasn't that bad!" the Doctor protested. Then at Martha's look, he muttered, "It definitely _sounded_ like you had a good night's sleep," under his breath. But unfortunately he wasn't quite quiet enough for Martha not to hear him.

Knowing that this was another joke about her supposed snoring, Martha ignored the comment. "So, why didn't you?" she asked again.

To her amusement, the Doctor looked a little flustered and admitted sheepishly, "Well, I umm... I sort of... At the time I-- I didn't think of it."

"You didn't think of it," Martha repeated slowly and disbelievingly. The Doctor merely ducked his head slightly, avoiding her eyes, and returned to his food.

Martha looked down at her own plate. She wished that she could be angry at him. But to be fair, she thought, whilst tugging at the sleeves of the Doctor's trench coat that she was still wearing, she hadn't thought of the psychic paper either. She'd been too disorientated, exhausted and not to mention nauseous, after the little trip she'd taken to get to this time. Therefore, assuming that the trip had affected the Doctor in much the same way, he couldn't have been feeling his best last night either, Time Lord physiology notwithstanding. She knew he liked to brag about his superior biology, but she refused to believe that he had been completely unaffected by the trip. That being the case, Martha knew she had to forgive the Doctor, just as she knew she always would.

However, Martha had a feeling that for all of the Doctor's vast and seemingly endless knowledge, she was going to be the one to get them to fit in in this time. The Doctor sometimes had very little awareness of how to get by in the real world. How she prayed that they weren't stuck here for good.

With a heavy heart, Martha returned her attention back to her food. Who knew what the future would bring?

... Well, to some extent... she did. But for once, it wasn't the world's future that she and the Doctor were concerned with. It was their own.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Yeah, I know. It was a short short chapter. I'm very sorry about that, but I've been so very busy busy busy recently! I'll try to update within a reasonable amount of time this time... but I'm not making any promises!

Please review and tell me what you thought!


End file.
